The Things Boys Need
by Super Chino
Summary: Ryan has made the soccer team and needs gear. With Kirsten in tow, this is a shopping spree never of them will forget any time soon!


**The Things Boys Need**

**(One shot)**

A/N – I wanted to work something like this into 'Raising Ryan' but I couldn't quite get it to fit and make it seem like it belonged so…this is a bit of a spin off about soccer gear with canon Ryan! Enjoy: D

There was a spark in the air after Ryan made the soccer team. Not only had it given Ryan a boost of confidence, it had all of the Cohens equally as excited.

Seth, being the anti-athletic kid that he professed to be, was anxious to see what Ryan could do on the soccer field. Coordination and strength were just not his strong suits but Ryan, Ryan could probably do anything he wanted to when it came to sports. He'd seen him throw a football around, he had a good arm on him. And a simple game of catch on the driveway left Seth's hand tingly and bruised. Ryan didn't play gentle that's for sure. But that's something you had to do when you played sports…be aggressive. For that reason alone, Seth was more than happy to root Ryan on from the safety of the stands.

While Sandy respected Seth's interests and he never pushed him into sports, he couldn't help but have a little bit of pride knowing one of his boys was on a team. He could go to the games and discuss stats with other fathers while cheering Ryan on. Hell, he'd even get to yell at a referee over an unfair call. That sounded like an afternoon made in heaven from a lawyer's viewpoint. The bottom line was he was extremely proud of Ryan's achievement. For a kid that came from nothing, Ryan had sure made up for lost time in a big hurry. Sandy couldn't wait for the season to start.

And then there was Kirsten. She'd be the first person to admit sports were not her thing. She didn't watch them on TV. She wouldn't think twice about passing on free tickets to a live event. And she was rather thankful that Seth was more into skateboarding and comic books. But when Ryan made the soccer team, something changed. She fancied herself helping out with fundraiser's for the team, or bringing a giant cooler of sports drinks, like Gatorade, to each game for all the boys. She would definitely need a Harbor High Soccer Club polo shirt to wear to the games. That was a must. And she couldn't wait for Ryan to have his photo taken in his uniform so she could put it on the mantel in the living room.

Yes, this changed everything. When Ryan made the team, it was like the entire family made the team.

"Ryan, don't forget to bring your supply list. I don't want to forget anything."

Grabbing the list off the counter, "Got it."

"So we'll run to Fashion Island and get as much as we can from there before we head to the sporting goods store."

Wincing, "Do you really think Fashion Island is going to have soccer cleats and gear bags?"

Pausing at a red light, Kirsten turned to Ryan, "Good point. Maybe we should skip that part."

"I think so."

Agreeing on the change of plans, they went directly to the sporting goods store. Kirsten immediately felt out of her element the moment she walked through the door.

"Ooookaaay. Um…since I've never had to do this before, we'll just get a cart and I'll follow you around with it. You know me, if there's no make-up counter or ladies shoes department, I'm lost."

Laughing, "Okay."

Ryan stopped at the first clerk he came across. "Excuse me, where's your soccer gear?"

"Yes sir, all the way at the back of the store and to your left."

"Thanks."

Marveling at all the equipment around her, Kirsten wasn't doing a particularly good job of paying attention to where she was walking.

"Kirsten? Kirsten!" Ryan called out.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're about to walk head first into a canoe."

Turning her head around, "Oh my. That would not have been good."

Pulling on the front end of the cart, Ryan made sure she stayed in the middle of the isle and away from all the displays.

"So Seth never played a sport? Ever?"

"Not a one. Never had an interest in them. And let's face it, look how scrawny he is now, could you imagine what he was like at say ten years old?"

"String bean?"

"Pretty much!" she laughed. "He's just not cut out for this stuff."

Finally locating the designated area, they stood and stared at all the equipment spread out before them. Ryan had never seen so many soccer supplies in his life.

To Kirsten, it was all still foreign no matter how she looked at it, but she did her best to pretend she knew what she was doing.

"I think you should get all your items first and we'll get your bag last, that way we'll know what size bag to get."

"That's probably best. So I guess we'll start with these."

"What are those?"

"Shin guards."

"Oh. Wow, those are heavy," she commented, pulling a set off the shelf. "So then, this rounded part goes around your knee? Or under it? Right?"

Ryan knew she was trying but he could only smile at her attempt, "Ah no, that's upside down. That part goes on your ankle, so that it fits over your shoe. Like this," he demonstrated laying the guard on top of his jeans.

Putting her hands on her hips, "I so don't belong in this store."

Chuckling, "It's okay. I know what I'm looking for."

"I'm glad one of us does."

Ryan took a few minutes to try on the different brands before settling on the set he liked the best.

"Let's pick out a soccer ball next," Kirsten suggested.

Moving further down the isle, "Jesus," Ryan moaned.

"That's a lot of balls," Kirsten observed. "Soccer…balls, I mean."

The shelves on the opposite side of the isle were jam packed from floor to ceiling with every brand and every color combination imaginable.

"What's your favorite color Ryan? There's a blue and gold one or a red and white one."

"Actually, I just want a normal one."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I never had one before."

Nodding, "Okay, I think that narrows it down to about twenty choices," Kirsten commented, causing them both to laugh.

Deciding on a ball, he tossed it in the cart and went back to his list.

"I guess we should get cleats next."

"Now this is a little more my speed." Floating around the shoe department, she took great care in analyzing the sports cleats.

Reading his list, "It says no metal cleats," Ryan instructed.

"But I would think those give you guys better traction. Why can't you wear those?"

"Metal cleats are considered dangerous. You can pretty much stab someone with them or tear someone up pretty bad if you land on them just right."

Not liking Ryan's explanation, a grossed out look swept over Kirsten's face. "Right. No metal cleats."

Picking out his gear was going along rather quickly until they came across the cleats. Kirsten wanted him to try on every style and every brand. Had he come alone, he would have already had a pair in his cart and been moving on down his supply list.

"Kirsten, there are twelve pairs of cleats on the floor. Really, that first pair was just fine."

"Honey, this is your feet we're talking about. You need good shoes. Oh, look at these, these have a nice shape to them."

"Kirsten, no one will care about the shape when they're covered in mud."

"These aren't the most attractive shoes, are they?"

"They're cleats," Ryan said flatly.

Messing the laces on yet another shoe, "And that means what to a Mom like me?"

Sighing, "It means I like these. Can I just get these?" Ryan begged, picking up a pair he liked, hoping to end the insanity of trying on more cleats.

"I'm acting too much like a girl aren't I?" Kirsten asked, suddenly aware of how many pairs of shoes were scattered on the floor.

"Yeah."

"Okay, okay. Put that pair on one more time, just to amuse me, and then we'll move on."

Thankful the end was in sight, Ryan slipped his cleats back on and waited patiently while Kirsten squeezed each foot and made him wiggle his toes before asking him to walk a bit to see if his heel slipped up and down.

"What do you think Ryan? Sure you're happy with those?"

"I'm sure. They're fine."

"Okay. Put them in the cart."

The boy working the shoe department knelt down next to Ryan and helped him collect all the unwanted pairs of cleats while Kirsten walked back to the display, still comparing shoes.

"Sorry about the mess." Ryan wasn't sure why he was apologizing but he felt it was necessary.

"Hey man, don't sweat it. I went through the exact same thing with my Mom last week."

"Soccer?"

"No. Lacrosse."

Smirking, "They can get a little carried away, can't they?" Ryan commented, shaking his head at the pile of shoes.

"That they can."

"Okay Ryan," Kirsten interrupted. "What's next?"

Groaning, "I'm supposed to get a mouth guard, but I hate those."

"Ryan…"

"I'm serious. I hate them."

"Look at me," Kirsten demanded as she turned the cart around and waited for Ryan to face her, lazily and on the brink of impatient. "Now smile."

Offering a fake, and extremely unenthusiastic smile, Ryan showed off his pearly whites.

"Uh huh. And that's exactly the way I want them to look when soccer season is over. You're getting a mouth guard."

"I can help you find those Ma'am," yet another clerk offered.

"Please do. Ryan, march."

Starting to feel like a five year old out shopping for Sunday clothes, Ryan followed the clerk back through the store with Kirsten bringing up the rear with the car.

"Here you go," the clerk offered, pointing to a display full of mouth guards.

After a brief search, Ryan decided on a clear guard, held it up for Kirsten to see and tossed it in the cart with the other supplies.

"Good boy. So what's left?"

"There's only one thing left."

"What is it?"

Swallowing nervously, "Um…a cup."

"Oh, I saw those at the front of the store. You can get one with the straw that sticks out or the other ones had the squirt bottle top on them. I'm guessing that might be better, it won't spill so easily."

Allowing his eyes to drift to the salesclerk, Ryan could feel his face going red.

"Um…it's not…that kid of cup," Ryan mumbled.

"Okay, well, do they tell you want kind they want you to have?"

"Yeah they do," he said, frowning at the list. "It's the um…the protection kind."

Raising his eyes back to Kirsten he waited to the gist of the supply in question to register with her.

Fumbling through the cart, she abruptly stopped and jerked her head to Ryan. "Oh…OH! I…I…never had to buy anything like that. Ever. For anyone. Um…"

Seeing Ryan's face turning bright red, Kirsten hoped the salesclerk could offer some assistance. Her own face must have looked rather pleading because the clerk jumped in right away to save them from their own embarrassment.

"I know what he needs. I can run and get it for you guys, I just need to know what size he is."

"What size he is! Do you really need to get that personal?" Kirsten asked, horrified at the implied information necessary to buy such an item. "I…I…don't know what size he…is. Um. Does it matter? I mean, if he's…he's…you know…"

Rendering the salesclerk speechless, he turned to Ryan who was already looking pale and starting to sweat.

"Can you…measure him?" Kirsten asked, mortifying both boys.

"I have a twenty-seven inch waist!" Ryan blurted out.

"Right. Thank you," the salesclerk breathed, extremely relieved. Patting Ryan on the shoulder, he walked off to get the necessary piece of equipment.

"Your waist? All he wanted was the size of your waist?" Kirsten asked bewildered and equally mortified given the measurements she thought were necessary for such an item. "Oh my God. I am so, embarrassed. I can only imagine what I put you through just now. I am so sorry."

Trying to regain his composure, "It's okay. You didn't know. But…I'm glad I stopped you before you said anything," he laughed.

"Me too!" she laughed. "I can't believe I thought that…I thought he wanted…"

"Don't say it."

Continuing to laugh, the clerk rounded the corner and handed Ryan the dreaded item in question along with an athletic supporter to hold it in place. Quietly commenting about something, Ryan and the clerk shared a secret exchange, purposely leaving Kirsten out of the conversation. It was obvious the boys understood each other.

After a moment longer, the clerk turned to Kirsten, "He's all set." Turning back to Ryan, "Good luck man."

"Thanks."

Ryan took his 'protection' and slipped it into the cart, placing it under some of the other items.

With both of them ready and willing to move past the moment as quickly as possible, they headed across the store to pick up a few other things like extra shoelaces and medical tape, black socks and a large sports bottle before finally selecting a bag that was large enough to hold all of his equipment.

Relived to finally be at the checkout, Ryan unloaded the cart onto the counter, purposely placing his supporter and cup at the end. He figured by the time the clerk got to it, Kirsten would be rummaging through her purse in search of her credit card.

Just as planned, Kirsten went into her purse, distracted, just as the clerk scanned the cup…and scanned it again…and again.

"We'll have to get a price check on this," she offered. Grabbing the P.A. to the store, "Lawrence, I need a price check, register six, for a boys 'Sports Ready' athletic cup, size medium."

Ryan had put his hands on the counter, closed his eyes and lowered his head down onto his hands in the middle of the announcement.

"It'll just be a minute folks," the clerk offered politely as if she were getting a price check on something as average as a pair of jeans.

Kirsten could feel Ryan's pain. Dire embarrassment was more like it. All she could do was pat his back as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Ryan? Hey Ry?"

Ryan's heart ceased beating. That was another boy's voice. Oh this was bad. He didn't want to look up. Surely some smartass punk from Harbor was ready to pounce all over this.

Slowly he stood up, pushing off the counter before biting his bottom lip and turning ever so slowly in the direction of the voice. To his astonishment, there stood two other boys from his soccer team. Both in line with their Moms, both with shopping carts full of gear…and both holding up their cups to show Ryan.

"You're not alone man. Their fifteen-ninety-nine, Ryan."

"Kenneth, put that down! Stop waving it around like that!" his humiliated Mom scolded, trying to grab the package out of his hand.

"What are you so embarrassed for? We're the ones that get to wear 'em!"

Walking down the next isle, the boy handed the cashier his cup. "Ma'am? This is the same one. This one's tagged, can you ring it through for him?"

"Sure." The clerk took a moment to compare the packages and once she was satisfied that they were the same, she scanned it through. Handing the tagged cup back to Kenneth, she put Ryan's into his bag with all his other supplies while Kirsten worked over the credit card machine as fast as she could.

"This has been torture for all of us man," Kenneth offered sympathetically. "We gotta look out for each other. We're a team right?"

"I owe you one man," Ryan acknowledged in thanks.

"See you at practice."

Ryan nodded as Kirsten instructed him to grab the bags. It was time to go.

Tossing the bags in the back of the Rover, they both took their seats and slammed the car doors, and sat in silence.

"So," Kirsten chuckled. "So this is what it's like, being a Mom with a boy in sports?"

"Yeah," Ryan answered curtly. "Isn't it fun?"

"That's one word for it!" she smiled. "It really goes according to your waist?"

Clearing his throat, "Jocks do. They hold the…other…part in place. The other part just…goes by small, medium and large. As if you…really wanted to know that...stuff."

"No, it's okay. I wish I would have known before today. I wouldn't have made such a fool out of myself. You don't have to go into detail, but is there anything else I should know? About sports?"

Ryan's heart was still doing flip-flops even though Kirsten was being pretty cool about the whole thing. "Even with wearing a c…that piece of equipment, that part of the body can still get hurt. You can pull a muscle, a groin muscle. Baseball players do it all the time."

Wincing, "Ow."

"Yeah."

"Well, I for one am hoping you have a safe season so that we don't have to talk about that…part of you, until at least next year. I wouldn't mind if it never came up again. In this lifetime."

"Me too…maybe next year I should go shopping…alone. Without hurting your feelings." Ryan grimaced, worried he'd damped Kirsten's spirit with his comment.

"I think that might be best. I mean, clearly you knew exactly what you were looking for today and I'm, I'm useless when it comes to all of this stuff," Kirsten laughed, hoping to ease Ryan's embarrassment.

"It's okay. You came with me because you care…that's important. It's important to me." Ryan glanced sideways at Kirsten, hoping he didn't cross the line with that comment. "But, now that we survived it once…I think once was good enough. Don't you?"

"I think you're right. I know…I know once was enough for me. I couldn't believe she announced it over the P.A.! God! I almost crawled under the counter with you!"

"Of all the gear I bought…had to be that one!"

They both laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Somehow it didn't surprise either of them.

"You know what we need right now?" Kirsten asked. "Junk food. A lot…of junk food!"

"Taco Bell?"

"Perfect!"

Putting the car in gear, they headed for their salvation, which was tacos, burritos and nachos bell grande. It had been a trying experience for both of them but one that left them both wiser for the wear.

Ryan would never again forget to make sure his purchases had tags on them, not to mention, the fact that personal sports gear should be bought during the privacy of a solo shopping trip and definitely while your foster Mom was no where to be found.

And Kirsten would forever and always remember that jock sizes went by waist size, not the size of his member. And a protective cup, yeah, she didn't even want to know how they sized such a thing. As much as she wanted to show Ryan how enthusiastic she was about his place on the team, she decided it was safer, for both of them, if she did it from her seat in the stands!

The end.

Another A/N – Of all the things I've written, and done, and questioned…it was the discussion about jock straps and cups that finally caused the Black Shirt (my husband) to say there's something wrong with me! LMAO!


End file.
